The Medium Read Online Free PDF Page B

was shocked to discover a huge scarlet stain spread across the seat. This was no brotherhood mark. What a stupid idea. This could mean only one thing. She was dying. That’s why Iris had come.
    She threw the pajama pants into the sink and turned on the faucets. Taking her bathrobe from a hook on the back of the bathroom door, she hastily put it on and hurried to her parents’ room.
    She knew her mother slept on the side of the bed nearest the door. Clutching her robe tightly, Helen inched forward through the darkness until her knees bumped the edge of the bed. She
gently shook her mother’s shoulder.
    â€œMama,” she whispered. “Mama.”
    Emilie raised herself up on one elbow and glanced at the Big Ben alarm clock, whose luminous hands indicated two-thirty. She waved Helen back and got up, pushing her feet into terry-cloth slippers. They went out onto the landing. Emilie shut the door behind her and turned on a small table lamp at the head of the stairs.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she said, laying an assessing hand on her daughter’s brow.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œBad dream?”
    Helen shook her head.
    â€œI think I’m sick. Really bad.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? You were fine at bedtime.”
    Helen led her mother to the bathroom and pointed to the sink. Her pajama bottoms lay in a pool of pink water. Helen began to cry.
    â€œAnd it’s still happening. I’m still bleeding. Down there. My stomach hurt all day, but the nurse at school said I was okay, so I was just waiting for it to go away. But it didn’t, and now—”
    â€œSh, sh,” her mother said, pulling out the sink plug. “You’re all right.”
    She unfurled a long strip of toilet paper, folded it into a square, and handed it to Helen. “Wait here.”
    Sniffling, Helen pressed the square of paper between her legs and sat down on the edge of the tub. She was astounded at her mother’s calm. All right? How could she be all right?
    Emilie returned with a cardboard box and an elastic strap. She drew a thick, rectangular white pad out of the box.
    â€œThis is a sanitary napkin,” she said. “It works like this.”
    She showed Helen how to fasten the tails of the napkin into two little metal S-hooks on the elastic strap, then she helped
Helen step into the strap and pull it up around her waist so that the pad was positioned firmly between her legs. Although it was soft, its bulk was uncomfortable.
    â€œTomorrow we’ll go out and get you your own belt,” Emilie said, adding cheerily, “You won’t mind missing a half day of school, I guess?”
    â€œWhose is this one?”
    â€œWhy, mine, of course.”
    â€œThis happened to you once, Mama?” Helen felt hopeful. Maybe she was going to be all right after all.
    â€œYes, yes. It happens every month. It will to you, too.”
    â€œEvery month?”
    Emilie took both of Helen’s hands in hers and looked deeply into her eyes.
    â€œYou know, Helen, that babies grow inside their mothers, right?”
    Helen nodded.
    â€œWell, a woman’s body makes a sort of nest every month just in case a baby wants to grow. When one doesn’t, the body throws the nest away, so it can start fresh the next month.”
    â€œA nest of blood?”
    â€œIt doesn’t sound very nice when you put it like that, but yes, a nest of blood. It’s what babies need when they’re inside their mothers.”
    â€œBut I’m not a woman.”
    Emilie bit her lip, as if it might be her turn to cry.
    â€œActually, my dear, now that this has happened, you are a woman. In one way, anyway.” She leaned forward and hugged Helen tightly. “But you’ll always be my little girl, too.”
    Emilie straightened up and smoothed her nightgown over her hips. “Maybe you can get a book from the library that will explain it better.”
    â€œThen I’m not going to